


Calm As The Wind, He's On My Mind

by MercyBuckets



Series: Which Witch [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Clint Barton's Farm, Clint Takes Wanda Home, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Gen, Gratuitous Use of Codenames, Grief/Mourning, Handwaving, Natasha Romanov Knows All, Not A Fix-It, Pietro Still Dies, Quilting, Wanda Maximoff Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6861103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercyBuckets/pseuds/MercyBuckets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda bends and maybe breaks but luckily there are people there to help her sew everything back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm As The Wind, He's On My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> After I saw Civil War I was hit with surprise Wanda!feels like a ton of bricks. This fic is set right after Age of Ultron but I'm planning on making this a series of oneshots that will cover up to Civil War. 
> 
> The mourning traditions are taken from a few different Eastern European countries in keeping with the fictional nature of Sokovia. The surnames are Czech and Slovakian. 
> 
> Warnings for some suicidal thoughts, Wanda's not exactly in a great place at the beginning of this. 
> 
> Title from Florence and the Machine

 

> Calm as the wind  
>  He's on my mind  
>  I'm getting tired of crawling all the way  
>  And I've had enough  
>  It's obvious  
>  And I'm getting tired of crawling all the way
> 
> \- Florence and the Machine,  _Which Witch_
> 
>  

Pietro is dead. Pietro has been dead for 9 days. Pietro is _dead dead dead_. Dead like Mama. Dead like Papa. Dead like the other 177 people who did not survive the battle of Sokovia. Just one name in a long list of names, no one special. He’s a footnote in the paper between “Laska, Jan” and “Mlynarik, Pyotr.” Wanda knows this because she saw the paper this morning when she snuck out to get food before anyone else was awake to tell her they’re sorry for her loss and ask her stupid questions about how she feels.

Obviously, she’s not feeling great as Tony’s blender and a large chunk of the counter can attest to. So can Steve, who comes running wearing only his boxers with the shield at the ready and finds her crying in the wreckage of the kitchen, nothing left of the newspaper but a charred mark on the table.

“It gets better,” he says slowly like he’s afraid of what she might do.

She growls wordlessly and curls in on herself like it will make him go away. She doesn’t want to hear about how he knows, how everything will be okay again someday. She just wants to scream until there’s nothing left of her but red.

Steve is still speaking. Wanda grits her teeth and regrets ever leaving the safety of her impersonal room where there is nothing to remind her of her grief. She just wants everything to stop. The red flares up around her and she can feel Steve falter as sure as she can feel the burn of her power in her veins. She wonders if it’s possible to burn herself up.

“Wanda, put the knife down,” orders Clint.

She hadn’t felt him come in but there he was.

“Put the knife down,” he says again taking a step closer.

Wanda looks down. There’s a steak knife in her hand that she doesn’t remember picking up. She drops it.

The relief from Steve nearly sends her to her knees.

“I didn’t mean too,” she says feeling wobbly.

“We know,” says Steve.

Clint takes another step towards her.

“Just take a deep breath kid,” he says evenly.

She tries but it catches in her throat and her lungs scream. Her power flares and she barely reins it in.

“Stop, I’ll hurt you,” she begs. “You can’t outrun it.”

‘Can’t outrun it like Pietro,’ she doesn’t say.

But Pietro can’t outrun anything now. A sob claws its way from her unwilling throat.  

Suddenly there are arms around her.

“No, no, no,” she whimpers. “I don’t want to hurt you. All I do is hurt people.”

Steve says something right next to her ear but she can’t make out the words. She feels like she can’t breathe, like when they wanted to see if she could breathe underwater and they held her under until the red turned to black.

“Pietro,” he says and she doesn’t hear anything else.

She loses her tenuous grip on her power and everything is _red red red_. She feels Steve shudder in time with her own heartbeat and there is nothing in the world but this moment. Everything hangs in freefall and for one second she feels blissfully numb before she crashes back into reality.

She is laying on her back on the kitchen floor. Clint is kneeling next to her helping Steve sit up. Steve is pale and his hands are shaking. Wanda turns her head to the side and throws up.

* * *

 

Pietro has been dead for 15 days. Clint takes Wanda home to his farm with his wife and his kids. They give Wanda her own little bedroom with a pretty red quilt and a potted plant with yellow flowers. She hates it. Pietro is dead and she has a new blanket for the first time in years. She wants to scream. Sometimes she does scream. Sometimes she goes way out into the hayfield where no one will hear her and she screams until she can’t make any more noise. Once she climbs up to the top of the hayloft and stands on the edge for a very long time. The fall is high enough to kill her if she lands wrong. She makes a point of not falling.

Every morning the sun streams into her room and Laura Barton says something like, “I don’t mean to bother you Wanda, but could you collect the eggs, I need to change Nathaniel” or “Wanda, are you any good at sewing, Cooper ripped his pants and I’m in the middle of dinner.” Always in such a way that Wanda can’t say no. Not to Laura who’s been so good to her and let her stay here even after what happened back at the compound.

So she gets up and says, “I have not seen chickens since I was a little girl,” and “I know nothing about sewing,” and she lives.

Laura teaches her to sew. She starts with curtains for her room made out of an old lace table cloth. Then potholders. She makes one to match every Avenger. She picks out the fabric for one for Pietro in her head but never goes further than that. Next Laura teaches her how to make simple quilt blocks and shows her the quilt that Lila is making for 4H. When Laura first explains what a memorial quilt is, Wanda vaporizes the fabric in her hands. When Clint comes home that day, he takes her out into the woods and shows her a pile of stones with an arrow on top of them.

“This is for your brother,” he tells her.

Wanda’s knees hit the ground before she registers what’s happening.

“It should have been me, I should have been with him,” she sobs.

Clint strokes her hair and doesn’t say anything at all.

* * *

 

When Pietro has been dead for 23 days, Wanda gets the flu. She lies in bed for three days feverish and weak. She can hear Pietro calling her name in every creak of the floor and every breeze that whistles through the farmhouse.

Laura holds Wanda’s hair as she’s bent over the toilet bowl. Clint sits by her bedside every night. Cooper and Lila make her cards that say “get better soon Wanda” on them. Nathaniel stares at her with his big blue eyes from his place in the carrier on Laura’s back and doesn’t cry. When she wakes up on the third day, she is alone. Her mind is quiet for the first time since Sokovia.

She gets up and finds Laura in the kitchen washing carrots with Nathaniel strapped to her back. Lila is sprawled on the floor scribbling away and Wanda can see Cooper outside in the garden.

“I want to make the quilt,” says Wanda, her voice a mere croak.

Laura smiles.

* * *

 

When the quilt is finished, Pietro has been dead for 39 days. The next morning, Natasha shows up unannounced.

“I brought you vodka and a cat,” she says handing Wanda a squirming grey kitten.

The kitten makes a pitiful noise as Natasha hands it over. Wanda can feel it’s little heartbeat thrumming against her fingers.

“We will keep the vigil for Pietro tonight,” says Natasha.

No one ever says his name.

Wanda starts crying.

Natasha nods almost approvingly.

“Barton says you made a quilt,” she says.

Wanda nods through her tears. She doesn’t trust herself to speak.

“I’m going to make bread,” says Natasha. “You have 24 hours to name the kitten, you best start now.”

* * *

 

Natasha makes black bread. Laura puts the kids to bed early. Clint sharpens his arrows on the porch and piles the wood high in the yard. Wanda holds her kitten in one hand and her quilt in the other and doesn’t say a word.

By the time it gets dark, the bonfire is burning so brightly it blots out the stars. Clint takes Wanda’s hand and leads her outside like a little girl, Natasha and Laura follow silently. They stand around the fire as close as they can without getting burned.

Clint pulls out the arrow from the pile of rocks and throws it in the fire.

“Pietro,” he says and then he steps back.

Wanda’s eyes prickle with tears.

Laura goes next tossing in a photo of Nathaniel.

“Pietro,” she said her voice quiet and steady.

Natasha steps forward with a piece of black bread fresh from the oven.

“Pietro,” she says.

They look at Wanda.

She steps forward with the quilt outstretched and the kitten pressed into her chest. It’s little heart pounds.

Natasha stops her with a light touch.

“This isn’t Russia,” she says. “Nor Sokovia. Don’t burn the quilt.”

Wanda lets out an audible sob.

“Pietro, Pietro, Pietro,” she says like the words are ripped from her mouth.

“What will you call the cat?” asks Natasha gently.

Wanda pulls the quilt around herself and squeezes her eyes shut. The fire burns red in her veins. _Pietro, Pietro, Pietro_ , beats her heart.

“Quicksilver,” she says softly. Then again, “The cat’s name is Quicksilver.”


End file.
